The Dee and Thereabouts

Month: September 2025

Low tide at Thurstaston beach

(Sunday 14^th September, 2025)

    Over to Wirral Country Park this morning. Although there was barely any wind (SSE), it was overcast and the temperature had dropped to a cold 12°C. Mind you, even at low tide when the sea had retreated, there was still activity on Thurstaston beach as various birds searched the mud and the shallow waters of the channels for pickings. There were Shelducks, Redshanks, Oystercatchers and the inevitable Carrion crows, amongst others.

Shelducks and Redshanks

I could hear a Curlew calling across the sands but was unable to spot it – have you ever noticed how difficult it is to pinpoint where a sound is coming from over a vast area? Luckily, though, Stu managed to capture a pair of Curlews scraping the beach for worms: the picture is a little grainy, but all the photographs today were taken from the clifftops.

    Curlews

I’m still not absolutely sure whether the gull wading in the channel near the Little egret is a Yellow-legged gull or a Lesser black-backed gull, but I’m opting for the latter. While both gulls have yellow legs, this gull’s plumage is the dark-grey which I associate with that of the Lesser black-backed gull. However, gulls are notoriously difficult to identify – well, for me they are, and that is my get-out clause, should I be wrong!

   Lesser black-backed gull and Little egret

The Little egret that’s moving in the opposite direction to the gull (whatever type of gull it may be) later joined up with another four Little egrets, and together they stood motionless on the banks of the channel, until occasionally one would swiftly extend its neck downwards and spear its prey in its long beak. I mention this only because I wondered, for no particular reason, what collective noun describes a group of egrets. ‘Congregation’ seems to be the preferred noun, although there are others. I suppose the term might be apt, but only for a well-behaved congregation that is not moving much. Maintaining a spiritual tone, a collection of godwits is known as a ‘prayer of godwits’, although it’s a little more difficult trying to trace where the term ‘godwit’ actually originates.

    This set me on wondering where all these names come from. Some collective nouns do make sense – a ‘murmuration of starlings’, for example. ‘Murmuration’ is described in Merriam Webster as ‘the utterances of low continuous sounds’, which perfectly describes the noise made by the beating pairs of wings of a huge Starling flock swirling around the sky. Others seem a little more obscure: ‘a committee of terns’, ‘a desert of Lapwings’, ‘a curfew of Curlews’, for instance. A ‘parliament of owls’ seems particularly incongruous, seeing as how owls are generally recognised for their sagacity, whereas Parliament, well…

    Eventually, we left the group of Little egrets and all of the other groups to it and headed back. One thing we noticed was, although there seemed to be a plentiful supply of blackberries, rosehips and sloes in the surrounding hedges, these fruits were all small, no doubt a result of the long, dry spell of weather over the last few months, when the plants have had to spread out moisture much more thinly than usual. And, while I realise that we’re now entering autumn, the leaves on many of the trees have already turned and fallen. Food for thought.

The important stuff

Talking of food (well, you just knew that was coming), Flissy’s café had plenty of Bakewell slices, so there was no quarrelling between your correspondents today. Highly recommended – the Bakewell, of course, and also not quarrelling!

18.09.2025
Rain stops play

(Sunday 7^th September, 2025)

    We were at Loggerheads Country Park this morning and, although it was overcast, it was a reasonably mild 18°C, with a light south-westerly wind which was barely perceptible in the shelter of the woods. As we crossed the little bridge to the Leete path, we glimpsed a Dipper scooting upstream. We’ve seen them before along this stretch, but this was to be our only sighting today.[1]

    We followed the Leete a short way, while scanning the riverside, each of us hoping to catch another sighting of the Dipper. I detected a little movement as I trailed my binoculars slowly over the landscape – or riverscape to be more accurate. Looking again, I saw that the movement was the long, see-sawing tail belonging to a Grey wagtail, which was perched on a rock as it scanned the water for food. This one was either a female or a juvenile as it lacked the distinctive black bib that males display during the summer (and I’m classing this as summer, or summer’s end, despite it being meteorological autumn). The grey, white, black, and lemony yellow form a lovely combination as you can see.

    Seen close-up, the Grey wagtail does strike you as being more colourful than its dullish-sounding name suggests, particularly in its underside feathers, and people often mistake it for the Yellow wagtail: the ‘Grey’ of its name refers to its grey back. The Yellow wagtail has an olive-green back and is much more yellow overall. Habitat is often a giveaway when trying to establish species, and Grey wagtails and Yellow wagtails differ from each other quite markedly in this respect. Grey wagtails are usually to be found near running water, where they can hunt for food, whereas Yellow wagtails prefer open fields and meadows, especially favouring ground that’s been disturbed by livestock, such as cattle or sheep, as this means that the birds can easily graze on the worms and grubs that are revealed as a result.

    We have seen Grey wagtails along the River Alyn here many times over the years and we’re fairly confident that they build their nests in the nearby cliffs that overlook the river. We were also lucky enough to see a family of Yellow wagtails quite recently in a cow field, happily scrabbling around the feet of their much larger bovine companions.[2]

There was a little more water – or slightly less exposed river-bed – than the last time we were here. The river still disappears, but now just that little bit further downstream. However, there is still evidently enough food – aquatic and aerial – to satisfy the Dippers and Grey wagtails that share this short stretch of the Alyn. As the title of today’s post suggests we beat a hasty retreat after only an hour-and-a-half or so. The rain came down heavily and, within seconds, the ground became saturated and we were a little bit soggy ourselves.

The important stuff

Sadly, Caffi Florence closed its doors recently, which is such a shame. The staff were wonderful and obviously we have many happy memories. Today, though, we had to go elsewhere for our coffee and cakes and we decided on Daleside Garden Centre in Hawarden (yes, I know, it’s officially ‘Klondyke Strikes’, but we all still refer to it as ‘Daleside’). Anyway, the cappuccinos were accompanied by an Eton Mess slice (Stu) and a Raspberry Meringue (Col). Very nice!

[1] Morning Dippers, Sunday 24^th August, 2025

[2] Bittersweet Memories, Sunday 3^rd August, 2025

11.09.2025
Hungry Heron

(Sunday 31^st August, 2025)

    Over to Roydon Park on the Wirral Peninsula this morning. We took a little excursion into the woods and sat on a bench underneath a beech tree, just looking and listening. Occasionally runners and walkers passed by, the walkers often with dogs accompanying them, the dogs bounding excitedly at the thousand and one aromas that assaulted their senses. Apart from the raucous rattling of one unseen Magpie in a nearby tree, however, it was generally quiet, although I would say soothingly so. One of the many benefits of getting out and about in nature is that it only takes a few moments before your anxieties begin to wash away and you adapt to the rhythm of your natural surroundings.

    Grey heron with its breakfast

Eventually, we exited from the woods and detoured to Roodee Mere, the lake near the miniature railway. A Grey heron was standing motionless on a raised platform in the mere, though we could see that its eyes were closely scouring the water for its breakfast. Several minutes went by when it suddenly lunged into the water and retrieved a fish. Stu managed to photograph the heron with the unfortunate fish in its beak.

The Grey heron trying a different vantage point

We watched a little longer, and we were amazed to see this persistent bird transfer itself to a low branch of an oak tree that was overhanging the water, then conceal itself in the foliage. As it flew to this new vantage point, it really did bring to mind a Pterodactyl. Mind you, I’ve never actually seen a Pterodactyl – I haven’t been around quite that long – but I’m sure you know what I mean.

   Moorhen chick following its mother

There were quite a few Mallards swimming on the water, and Moorhens too: we watched one chick trailing its mother as she determinedly led it away from the heron. (Grey herons will take Moorhen chicks if the opportunity is there, so the mother was right to be cautious). The far side of the mere was bedecked with lilies and other floating vegetation, and we watched in amused fascination as another family of Moorhens, chicks and parents, walked from one lily pad to another with their distinctive high-stepping gait.

    Moorhen chick looking for a comb

Despite the odd gust of wind, it was a relatively warm 19°C and we saw several butterflies flying about at the mere’s perimeter, including Meadow browns, Small whites, and Speckled woods.

The important stuff

Retiring to The Courtyard Café for our well-earned edibles, we very nearly came to blows as there was only one Bakewell Slice left! Fortunately, common sense prevailed and so we sat down and enjoyed Lemon Drizzle cake (Stu) and the aforementioned Bakewell (Col). Marvellous!

04.09.2025